


She Could

by paneverlands



Series: Bethyl Week [1]
Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bethyl Week, F/M, I don't know what else to put here, i guess, sad Beth, so onward
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:13:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paneverlands/pseuds/paneverlands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Beth could sit in this spot forever. She could sit in the flowers and listen to the water and watch the clouds pass by and the moon and stars rise when it got dark. She could write, laugh, dance, sing, breathe right here. She could because this place was Daryl's and her's; it was theirs."</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Could

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bethyl week, day 1.
> 
> I had started and finished one that turned out to be almost 8,000 words but it ended up having a mind of it's own and not following along at all. I'm working with a friend to edit it and am going to post it as soon as that's done. But, in the mean time, I'm hoping this one goes better with the prompt!
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes that are my own. I tried to edit as best as I could, but sometimes I miss things. And I've had zero sleep lol
> 
> I would love to hear feedback on what you guys think! If you liked it, if you didn't or if there's anything that I might need work on. Or just to chit chat(:
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Beth could sit in this spot forever. She could sit in the flowers and listen to the water and watch the clouds pass by and the moon and stars rise when it got dark. She could write, laugh, dance, sing, breathe right here. She could because this place was Daryl's and her's; it was theirs.

She could sigh when he wrapped his arms around her and giggle when he ran his fingers across her sides, his breath hitting her neck in quick, hot bursts as he laughed along with her. She could lace her fingers through his and lean back against his chest as they watched the sunset. Could stare into his eyes and never look away until the sun was coming up.

She could sing as loud as she wanted and tease him until he joined in; their voices filling the warm night air like gravel and honey. Could slow dance with him until he complained that his feet hurt and she laughed because she knew that his way of saying he was getting uncomfortable. He always had reservations about things involving emotions and close contact.

She could grip his hair tight and arch her back, feeling him kiss and lick and nip his way across her chest and down her stomach. She could kiss him until they were both breathless and holding each other tight as though they were afraid the other would disappear if they let go. She could wrap her legs around him, open herself up so he could love her. She could run her fingers over the bruises he made across her collarbones and hips; like he was marking her as his and, god, was she his. She could cry out his name as she hit her peak and moan when he hit his.

She could listen to him scream at her when she tried to comfort him because he never had anyone on his side before. Never had anyone tell him that the reason those scars are on his back was not because he was a bad person, but because his father was. Never had someone tell him that it wasn't his fault. She could give him his distance when he was reliving the horrible things that had happened to him or the stupid things he'd done. Listen as he cursed out his father and his brother, hate them because they destroyed him.

She could tell him over and over that he's everything to her. Could tell him that he can fight her on it all he wants, but she would always want him. Want his compassion and shyness and protectiveness and anger and hurt and fear; everything that made him beautiful to her. That, no, he's not perfect, but neither is she and she wouldn't have it any other way. And to stop being dumb and telling her otherwise like he thought that he knew her mind better than she did.

She could lay next to him, their arms brushing, and feel the sun soak into their skin, warming them up from the outside in. To roll over and bury her face in his chest, listening to the way his heart stuttered before evening out and smiling just a little because she caused that. She affected him just as much as he affected her and to be able to do that to a person like Daryl Dixon was an incredible feeling.

She could have her breath hitch when he shuffled around a bit before finally looking her in the eyes and whispering that he loved her for the first time. Could feel content with the surprise that crossed his face and the shy smile that quickly followed when she whispered it back. Could feel the vibrations through to her core when he hugged her and laughed so freely, a book so open to her in that moment that it took her breath away.

She could feel her heart break when they fought and he told her that he was done. Done with her, with whatever game they were playing, with this place; just done with everything. Could feel her heels digging into the ground and picking up dirt and grass when she grasped at his arm to try and get him to stay, to talk to her, and was dragged behind him like she weighed absolutely nothing at all. Could tell she was going to cry when he pressed on, her pleas falling on deaf ears and there wasn't anything she could do except let him get into his truck, slam the door and peel out of there; so fast she felt like he couldn't stand to even feel her eyes on him anymore.

She could hate him for leaving the way he did. Could hate herself for letting him. One minute it was calm and serene and the next it was a mess of hurtful and ugly words that couldn't be taken back and they weren't sure if they would be able to forgive each other for than night. Could cry so hard she felt she was suffocating. She could yell and punch things; could get so angry it hurt. She could wish that things weren't the way they had turned out.

She could if she truly wanted to, but sitting here in the quiet, alone, was so much different than sitting in the quiet with Daryl.

And Daryl could never be here with her again. She could never tell him that she was sorry, could never tell him that she forgives him and that she's so sorry for everything that she said that. He could never hold her hand, never run his work-worn fingers through her hair or whisper the things that would light her skin on fire in the shadows of the night.

The night of their fight, when he drove off so angry, he was hit by a car that ran a red light. And, see, the thing about Dixon's is that they think they're indestructible; they could survive anything and everything by sheer force of will. So, he never had a helmet and never looked both ways and it cost him his life. She never got a chance to tell her daddy or Maggie or Shawn or Glenn; never got a chance to tell anyone how she loved him and to show them that he wasn't like his family. To show them how he treated her right and made her feel like she was floating and more grounded than she had ever been. The secret that once made her feel so alive, more alive than anything else ever had, and the one that, now, felt like it was killing her with him gone.

She laid in that spot and stared at the sky; the gray sky and thick clouds telling her it was going to storm soon. And she felt like she could laugh at that because even the sky would cry on the day of Daryl Dixon's funeral; that it would feel his loss, someone so in tune with the outdoors that it was more his home than an actual house could ever be.

She felt her throat start to close up and the tears spring to her eyes and she didn't know how much longer she could hold it in until she burst; a balloon popping as it was filled with too much air or a glass cup shattering on tiled floors. She knew one day she would tell her family about Daryl; she wanted to tell them now, before she lost control of her composure, but she was afraid that they wouldn't have anything nice to say and with the pain of losing him too fresh, she wasn't sure if she would be able to survive it.

So, yes, she could sit in the flowers and listen to the water and watch the clouds pass by and the moon and stars rise when it got dark. She could write, laugh, dance, sing, breathe. Right here.

Except, now those flowers felt itchy and the sound of the water made her feel like drowning and everything else seemed trivial with the way she was feeling. No, tonight she would sit here and mourn the first person she ever loved and hoped, so badly, that one day she wouldn't feel like giving up when waking up every day without him.

"You know I hate goodbyes. I'll see you again one day. I love you."


End file.
